


Pillow Talk

by kuwdora



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M, pillow talk amongst psychopaths, still somehow warm fuzzies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-02
Updated: 2009-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:51:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuwdora/pseuds/kuwdora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stop or I’ll suffocate you with the pillow,” Sylar said, holding the elbow inches from his face until Luke wrenched his arm away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Written for comment_fic. Prompt was: Sylar/Luke, heat.

Sylar was beyond frustrated; the sheets clung to his back like a persona he couldn’t peel off. He lifted his head and tossed the pillow aside, having long mined the each side for every inch of cool cotton. He settled back and stared blankly at the ceiling, void of all thought until the shifting beside him pulled him away from the nothingness of dry air and long night. Luke couldn’t stop tossing and turning, back and forth, rearranging his pillow, stretching and curling into himself. The movement was incessant, no longer effervescent since they’d concluded the evening’s activities—two rounds worth—which had left them sweaty to begin with. Had they needed the blankets, by this point Luke would have long stolen them and cocooned himself, leaving Sylar to fend for himself. But now the broken air conditioner and deadly combination of heat and humidity wasn’t letting either of them find a bit of relief.

“Stop,” Sylar muttered.

“Can’t help it.” The grumble was low, just as annoyed.

Sylar rolled onto his side. Despite his limbs feeling heavy and since neither of them were anywhere near sleeping, Sylar began tracing the discs, one-by-one, along Luke’s spine. His fingers feathered over the crease of his ass, but he detoured to find anchor elsewhere because he knew how sensitive Luke was down there.

Luke fidgeted under his touch, a grand gesture that included craning his neck to stare at the headboard and nearly elbowed Sylar in the jaw.

“Stop or I’ll suffocate you with the pillow,” Sylar said, holding the elbow inches from his face until Luke wrenched his arm away.

He felt rather than heard Luke snort at the empty threat but the more Sylar traced the outline of Luke’s back with his thumb and index finger, lightly digging his nail across blemishes, making patterns out of the constellation of small moles littered across his back, the more Luke relaxed and let Sylar touch. But he shifted awkwardly one last time, whether it was out of discomfort or a shiver that would make him jealous, Sylar couldn’t tell.

When his fingers skirted across Luke’s shoulder, Luke shrugged him off but Sylar stilled him with his palm, kneading the muscle until Luke relaxed. Sylar slid his hand along his neck, tracing the hairline to his ear and rubbed affectionately. Luke shied away and rolled onto his stomach.

Sylar remained as motionless as Luke did on his stomach, frozen, for fear if he touched further, it would set Luke off to toss and turn and make the mattress feel like a waterbed that he’d gladly drown in at this point. He didn’t think it was fair that Luke would fall asleep before him, but it’d be a blessing because he’d have a chance for some sleep.

After another minute waiting, listening to his breathing, Luke rolled onto his other side and Sylar swallowed his irritation when he saw the look of misery in the sloping corners of Luke’s frown and way his eyes were half-lidded, like it was a challenge to keep them open. Sylar reached out and touched his clammy stomach, finding the hub of his ribcage and exploring from there, though it was far from new territory. Luke stilled, eyes fluttering closed when Sylar thumbed his navel and ran his hand along his thigh.

Luke reached for his hand quickly and squeezed, _hard_ , and there was no room for interpretation when his hand grew unbearably warm but not hot as to blister or bleed like it could.

_“Stop.”_

Luke guided Sylar’s hand back into his own space and sat up half-way, making eyes at the pillow. He idly wondered if Luke was going to take his earlier threat into his own hands, but no. Luke grabbed the pillow, scooted away from him and stood the pillow up between them, making a barrier.

Luke rolled back over, back facing him again, and used his arm as a replacement pillow.

Sylar didn’t have the energy to grin. Instead he mustered up enough reserves to bypass the pillow and attach an oppressively warm mouth to Luke’s neck. He pressed a hot kiss there on the carotid first with lips and tongue until he nipped at the skin just to have the last say. Luke groused when Sylar ran his hand through the grimy hair and rolled back onto his side of the bed.


End file.
